


Cosmic / Gravity

by alekszova



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Impressions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: DBH Rarepairs Week: Day 2 - First ImpressionsGavin and Connor talk to each other about their different first impressions at different stages of their relationship together.





	1. Cosmic

“What did you think of me?” Connor asks, threading his fingers through Gavin’s, bringing them up to his lips to press a kiss against them. “When we first met?”

“Which time?”

“Any of them… all of them.”

 

 _Revolting._ No— **despicable.**

The android is _despicable._ Made for absolutely no reason. Aren’t humans enough? Aren’t they worth anything?  They have souls and feelings, they can trust in luck and miracles and make wishes. They can do jobs that androids shouldn’t—and _couldn’t._

He is despicable, and he is worthless. His presence in the DPD is unnecessary.

Gavin pushes him. Threatens him. Punches him. Tries to get his point across with the cruelest of words he can muster, and even then they are lackluster. He is hit in return, falling to the ground and his vision going black. Bruises forming across his body as he lays with the taste of blood in his mouth and pain radiating down his spine.

And he will think of how much he absolutely hates androids as his vision clears, as a bag of ice is pressed against his face, as his blood is wiped away.

 

“You hated me.”

“I hated androids.”

“But you directed it at me. I was the face for those thoughts.”

“It’s… not how I feel now. Not even close,” he says, trying his best to locate the words he can use to describe how terrible he still feels. That none of this should have happened to Connor.

“No?”

“No, it couldn’t be further from hate. When I met you again, it was different.”

“Different how?”

 

 _Ostentatious._ No— **hurt.**

Connor is _hurt._ In a way that Gavin can only see because he hides his own pain in the same way. Carefully crafted expressions and hidden away thoughts. Lips pressed together to say nothing meaningful unless they’re weapons sharpened to hurt others. Although, Connor is not the same as him in that respect. He just becomes… _quiet._ Reserved, almost. Keeping to himself, happy with whatever duty is assigned to him.

Then, Gavin realizes, he _caused_ that hurt. And then, he realizes, Connor doesn’t _deserve_ that.

He does his best to pull away. Avoiding as many cases as he can manage. And he keeps his hands hidden away, too. Always terrified that they will form a fist when he doesn’t want them to. That he will bite and snap and retort without meaning for it to happen. And he can’t. He feels guilty enough as it is.

They are left alone one night in the DPD. Standing beside each other and discussing something he can’t recall. And Connor takes his hands, holds onto them tight. He thinks he might kiss Connor. He thinks Connor might kiss him. The closeness between them, the way Connor looks down to him, holding his gaze.

And he can’t take it anymore. He can’t handle the feeling in his chest. Words on repeat tumbling from his lips again and again as he pulls away, falling to the floor, hiding his face with his hands, trying and failing to keep up with the tears streaking down his cheeks.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

Connor leans down beside him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this compassion. Gavin should be comforting Connor. Trying to heal the damage he caused. His hand rests against his stomach, as if it can make that punch evaporate. Take it all back just from one small touch.

 

_I’m sorry._

Gavin hides his face against Connor’s neck, words failing him. He wants to repeat them again. He needs Connor know that he still means them. That he still feels absolutely terrible for what he did.

“You were different once you became a deviant.”

“Yes.”

“You… didn’t… hold a grudge.”

“No.”

 

 _Real._ No— **alive.**

Connor is _alive._ Maybe not human, but _alive_ in his own way. Emotions overflowing, constantly drowning everything else out. Sometimes crying because of the smallest thing, apologizing profusely for spilling a cup of coffee before he’s reassured that it isn’t necessary. Smiling at dogs in the park and laughing at shitty jokes Gavin makes.

He is alive and he means something, despite the fact he is plastic and Thirium.

Gavin has to fight his urge to hug him sometimes. He is constantly ready to rush to his side and hold him tight. He is afraid of grasping onto him, but he is even more terrified of Connor disappearing from his life just as quickly as he arrived.

And he worries, too. New emotions sprung to the surface, unequipped to deal with them properly. He is breaking down from the amount of work and chaos shoved into his lap. He might have been created to solve cases at the DPD but that doesn’t mean he _should._ Death is a difficult task to deal with. Letting cases go cold is impossible. It is not something everyone is able to handle.

 

“Were you falling in love with me?”

“I was.”

“Good,” Connor says, and Gavin breaks into a smile, letting a little laugh escape his lips, tries to hide it against the crook of his shoulder. “So was I.”

“So, you don’t want me to go back? Stop it from happening?”

“No. Never.”

 

 _Cute._ No— **infuriating.**

Connor is _infuriating._ They fight about something stupid. Gavin can’t remember the details. He never does. He just escapes from Connor as quick as possible, shoving through the crowd in the club, finding someone to dance with, reminding himself that Connor is annoying and obnoxious and fucking _infuriating—_

He always has been.

Hasn’t he?

Some stranger’s hand is on his waist, pulling him too close. His head is filled with pictures of Connor’s face, the sound of his voice, the sudden appearance of him in his life. A prototype detective at the station _he_ works at? It’s like someone planned this. Decided Connor and him should meet.

He is pulled away, spun in a circle where Connor’s hands hold his face still, looking at him for only the briefest of seconds before kissing him. And Gavin is grateful that Connor is kissing him. He wouldn’t have been able to make that first move himself.

And he allows himself to be cheesy, just for a moment. Lets himself compare it to the stars being aligned.

He reaches up and drags Connor towards him, pulling him down further and further, not letting any space between them. The music is loud and awful and his skin is slick with sweat but this is all he wants. Connor in his arms, Connor kissing him, Connor holding onto him and doing his best not to let go.

 

“I love you.”

Connor moves, tugging at Gavin so that he can kiss him. Careful choices against his forehead and cheeks and nose before he pauses for a moment to say something, just a whisper, before he kisses Gavin again.

“I love you, too.”

 

**_His._ **

Connor is _his._


	2. Gravity

“What did you think of me?” Gavin asks, turning on the bed to face him, cozying up further into his chest. “When we first met?”

“Which time?”

“Any of them… all of them.”

 

_Arrogant._ No— **hateful.**

Detective Reed is _hateful._ Cruel for no reason. Pushing him around and letting angry words tumble from his lips. It is of no matter to him. He can’t feel the pain of a fist connect to his stomach, and he doesn’t feel guilty when he fights back against the detective in the archive room.

He is hateful, but he is also inconsequential. None of this matters.

Connor will remember the places where his punches land, he will remember that they were thrown with the force that could have left a bruise behind, maybe even a fractured bone, if he were human. He will remember the gun held to his head. He will think of these things as he stands opposite of Markus, thinking about how he has been mistreated by the humans.

And he will think of how absolutely terrible of a person Gavin Reed is, up until the moment his coding clicks, breaks, makes that last little push over into deviancy.

 

“You hated me.”

“Machines can’t hate.”

“Yeah but… you did. As much as a machine can.”

Connor trails a hand down his spine in careful motions, trying to figure out the best way to say this without hurting Gavin’s feelings. “It doesn’t… matter what I thought of you then.”

“No?”

“No, because it changed. When I met you again, it was different.”

“Different how?”

 

_Coward._ No— **ashamed.**

Gavin Reed is _ashamed._ Hiding his fists behind his back, looking over at Connor with small apologies written in his eyes that would never be spoken by his tongue. Trying his best to keep off of cases where they would work together. At first, Connor didn’t know what it meant. The distance. He thought it was just the hated he held for androids. Keeping the one at the DPD away from him, no matter the cost. Never to let them grow any closer than coworkers.

Then, Connor realized, he was _ashamed_. And then, he realized, Gavin was _more_ than that.

He was the one to bring them closer. Trying to get next to him just so he could force interactions between them. Noticing the little details of how he would shrink away, keep his hands pressed flat on surfaces or stuffed in pockets. He’s always intimately aware of the location of those hands.

They are left alone one night in the DPD. Standing beside each other and discussing whether or not _staplers_ are useful in the DPD. And Connor takes his hands, holds onto them tight. He thinks he might kiss Gavin. He thinks Gavin might kiss him. The closeness between them, the way Gavin looks upwards, meeting his gaze.

And then he whispers an apology, again and again until it is broken and destroyed with a thousand tears and he is ripping his hands away, stumbling back, falling to the floor and Connor kneels beside him, gathering him in his arms.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay._

Connor might be a deviant now, he might feel things like pain and sorrow and anger, but he didn’t feel it then. Damage wasn’t done to his body. There are worse things to dwell on than a fist to his stomach by an angry, hateful man. There was no harm done.

 

“You were different once I was a deviant.”

“I guess.”

“You saw me as a real person.”

“Yeah.”

Gavin hides his face against Connor’s neck, his words falling silent. He wraps his arms a little tighter around his body, holding him a little closer, feeling like he needs to repeat those words again.

_It’s okay._

 

_Soft._ No— **human.**

Gavin is _human._ Meeting him outside of work for the first time, sitting beside him at a café and watching him sip at his coffee, it is a different Gavin than he met when he was just a machine, than when he was newly a deviant. He doesn’t wear the same mask of arrogance like he did inside of the DPD. It’s fallen apart. He’s just left weary and exhausted.

He is human and he means something, despite his past wrongdoings.

Connor has to fight the urge to hold his hand. He is constantly prepared to reach out and grab it, hold it tight. He doesn’t want to let him go. He feels like if Gavin gets too far away from him, he’ll never get him back again. He’ll be lost forever.

And he worries, too. He can see the faults in his façade now. The cracks growing bigger and bigger with each case. The way they seem to partially disappear when there is a stray cat on the street or someone hands him a coffee with the precise amount of sugars he likes. He has a nice smile, one that only appears at random and extremely rarely. Like it has almost gone extinct.

 

“You were falling in love with me.”

“I was.”

“Fool,” Gavin says, but Connor can feel the smile pressed against his neck, the small laugh being hidden against his skin. “You were a fool.”

“Do you want me to go back? Change what happened?”

“No. Never.”

 

_Cute._ No— **stubborn.**

Gavin is _stubborn._ They fight about something stupid. Whether they can drink when undercover. And he should have known before that Gavin is a stubborn asshole, but he had been ignoring it. They’re good at tiptoeing around real arguments. Keeping them silly and lighthearted. Something neither of them would regret, something that would result in one of them laughing.

But Gavin is stubborn and he races away from Connor, leaving him alone in the middle of the club.

When Connor finally manages to find him, he is dancing with someone in the dark of the room. And it’s a sudden thing. It crashes down on him. Feels like he was thrown from the skies and onto the hard surface of the earth. Choking for air through destroyed lungs.

Some stranger’s hand is on Gavin’s waist, pulling him too close, and Connor is filled with an annoyance that chokes him on his words, forgets why he was even here for a moment. They’re on a case, aren’t they? They shouldn’t be dancing they should be—

Solving a case.

Right?

He steps forward, pulling Gavin away from the stranger, taking his face in his hands and kissing him. Gavin’s hands clasp on his jacket, dragging him deeper and deeper. The music is loud and pounding and it hurts his head but—

 

“I love you.”

Gavin shifts, pulling away from Connor’s tight grasp enough to leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, a last one on his lips, one that he breaks off quickly to say something, quietly, before he kisses Connor again.

“I love you, too.”

 

**_His._ **

Gavin is _his._

**Author's Note:**

> [hmu on my tumblr](https://norchloe.tumblr.com/)


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